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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27008635">Eidolon</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleyWalk_writes/pseuds/Alley_Walk'>Alley_Walk (AlleyWalk_writes)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>'cause shit was confusing, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Spirits, Because of Reasons, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Canonical Character Death, Dead Mr and Mrs Granger, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, F/M, Gen, Hermione and Regulus live in America, I DO NOT SUPPORT JKRs transphobic views, I mean...? it should be obvious...?, Implied/Referenced Emotional Abuse, Kitsune Harry Potter, M/M, Multi, No character bashing, None - Freeform, POV Harry Potter, POV Hermione Granger, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Regulus Black Lives, Rewrite, Seer Hermione Granger, Trans Harry Potter, casper the not so friendly ghost, for... a while..., if you hate dumbledore you will probably not like this fic, seriously or... siriusly AU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:41:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,151</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27008635</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleyWalk_writes/pseuds/Alley_Walk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Dark Gods aren’t real.</i><br/>So why did one kill her father?</p><p> </p><p>Hermione is packed off to Britain to live with her adopted father’s only remaining relative, Sirius Black. But things aren’t what they seem. For anyone.</p><p>Meanwhile, Harry is going through a transformation that will only bring more trouble down on his head.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger &amp; Regulus Black, Hermione Granger &amp; Sirius Black, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Okay, I think I've got this. My beta even looked through it this time instead of reading it for enjoyment, which I (hope!) will help.</p><p>I know there's a lot of world building in this chapter, but please try to stick with it, and remember to keep track of the dates. They're there for a reason. ^-^</p><p>I can't think of anything too bad other than someone getting struck by lightning and a vague injury that is never shown? tell me if y'all think of anything else that need's to be warned. Also, I did reuse a paragraph in the beginning of the second scene, though I edited it a little, just to describe the room they were in. I know that's annoying, sorry. feel free to skip over that part.</p><p>OK, I think that's it! Read on! ^^</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Chapter One • Journey’s Begin</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wednesday, July 26th, 1995</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The clouds were grey edged with black, swirling ominously above while thunder rumbled overhead. Rain poured down onto their shoulders, but Regulus ignored it, staring up at the spirit above. It was large, so large it eclipsed the sky above, and Regulus told himself he was not afraid. He raised his wand towards the sky, shouting a command at the spirit above. “Stop this storm at once, demon! You are </span>
  <em>
    <span>flooding the streets!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Stop or I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will make you.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lightning flashed amongst the clouds, outlining the curve of a massive beak as the creature’s head turned to fix Regulus with one large, unforgiving eye, an eye that was as black as the void and swallowed all the light around it. Lightning crackled, and then there was a brilliant flash of white. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Monday, August 19th, 1991</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room was a vast space that was completely circular, shelves inset into the walls that circulated the entire room, filled to the brim with books. Hermione itched to go through them, but she knew that wasn’t what they were here for. The walls were a dark varnished wood that seemed to emit their own heat, and the floors were of a plush flint grey carpet. There were purple armchairs arrayed around round wooden tables piled with quill, ink, and parchment. In the center of the room was an elevated dais that held several pedestals with weapons displayed on each surface. Hermione could sense their cursed energy, weak as it was, reaching towards her. She looked towards Reg and he dipped his head. “Go ahead.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione stepped forward onto the dais, her heart in her throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She passed by a rifle, its casing broken and worn. A pair of daggers looked to be completely dulled. In a place of honor on a pedestal raised above the others, an elegant rapier with a rusted silver blade and a worn black cup hilt sat on an old ratty cushion. Hermione felt its magic reaching for her, and she looked at Reg uncertainly. He stepped by her side and squeezed her shoulder. “Go on, then, little owl. Best not to keep them waiting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione nodded, and dug into her pocket to retrieve a butterfly knife. She unhooked it impatiently, feeling excitement running through her. “Steady,” Reg cautioned, and Hermione took a deep breath and let it out evenly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She thought for a long moment before it came to her in a blooming certainty. She pricked her finger with the knife and let her blood drip down onto the blade.  “I pledge myself to you, Serpentis. May the blood of my heart speak true.” The blood on the blade slowly fades before sinking into the metal, the drops meeting a similar fate as they fall onto its still surface. “And through this vow our magic and our hearts shall be merged forevermore. So mote it be.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The power of her words carried throughout the room, and as the last of her words left her lips the room began to shake underneath her feet. The room tilted, and books crashed and fell off of their shelves, chairs and tables overturning as Hermione lost her feet out from underneath her. Reg caught her around the middle, clutching her close to his chest with one arm with the other slung over the side of a pedestal in a death grip. They rode out the aftershocks and then climbed to their feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reg looked shaken, and Hermione followed his gaze to Serpentis. Her eyes widened. “Did</span>
  <em>
    <span> I </span>
  </em>
  <span>do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reg smiled at her, though he still looked a little off. “Well, it is Black Family magic. The other Eidolon probably had something to say about someone not of Black Blood wielding the Black Family weapon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Black Family weapon?!” Hermione’s eyes widened and she gaped at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reg nodded, gesturing to the rapier. “It’s yours now. I could never bond with it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione swallowed. “But…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reg ruffled her hair. “Go on, now. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Episkey</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” The small cut on her finger healed, and Hermione gave him an uncertain smile and turned away from him, looking towards her rapier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Serpentis gleamed like burnished silver, the hilt like dark obsidian. Hermione hesitated, then and grasped the hilt in her hand. A sharp pain scored a line across her skin as two letters traced themselves in red on the back of her hand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>SS</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Serpentis’s magic, hot and acidic, nestled into her soul, settling to curl around her magical core like a sleeping dragon guarding its hoard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione supposed there was some truth to that. It was a symbiotic relationship, after all. The cursed weapons fed off of their magic, and they gave them powerful Eidolic weapons that they couldn’t otherwise use and a stronger aptitude with wandless magic in return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione was very lucky to have even been adopted by Reg, as only Purebloods possessed Eidolic weapons, some from family lineages and some stolen through conquest from other Pureblood families throughout the centuries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Serpentis. I like it.” Reg said with a wry smile. “Be careful not to tell anyone that name. Names have power, you know, especially names like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione nodded, and Reg tweaked her hair. “Come on, let’s get some lunch.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Saturday, December 25th, 1993</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are the different classifications of spirit?” Reg quizzed her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dwarf, giant, and supergiant.” Hermione told him quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reg nodded, leaning both elbows against the table. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Ordinance Codex</span>
  </em>
  <span> sat open before them on the kitchen table, but Hermione had memorized it long ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Ordinance Codex was written by the Eidolon Ordinance, a secret society of mages that took care of the more dangerous parts of the magical world: spirits. And since only Purebloods or people adopted or somehow related to Purebloods could help, it was a pretty insular group. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are the orders and functions of Luminosity?” Reg asked her, lifting an eyebrow. Hermione blushed, she hadn’t meant to get so lost in her own head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Um…” She wracked her brain. “Luminosity tells the overall malicious intent of a spirit, from least malicious to most. The order from least threat to most goes from white, blue, to yellow.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reg reached over and ruffled her hair. “Good job. I’m sure you’ll be ready to go solo soon at this rate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione brightened. “Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reg smiled at her and tweaked her hair. “Of course, little owl.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thursday, April 21st, 1994</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione groaned as she leaned back on the couch, letting the pain reliever potion do its work, the numbing potion making most of the pain fade away. Reg wrapped her up carefully in a blanket, handing her a cup of hot cocoa with whipped cream and sprinkles on top, just how she liked it. Her hands shook around the mug, and Reg folded his hands over hers, stilling them. “The first mission alone is always the hardest,” Reg advised, “drink up. Don’t worry, it’s not too hot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione did as she was told, taking a sip. Warmth bloomed in her stomach as she drank, and she felt significantly calmer when she was done. She supposed there must have been a Warrior’s Relief potion mixed in there. She knew it wouldn’t last for very long; a warrior’s heart was never still, she knew that much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Reg. You have a brother. Why isn’t he here?” Hermione asked. She’d been curious about this ever since she’d seen the name ‘Sirius Black’ in the newspaper as an escaped criminal from Azkaban. Surely now that Sirius was free, and also innocent according to Reg, he could come live with them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reg rubbed at the back of his neck, looking away. “My brother and I had a… complicated relationship. Let’s just say that he wouldn’t be very happy to see me, and while I want to make amends, I’m not really sure if that’s possible with all that’s between us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione thought about this. “Is he a part of the Coterie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reg’s eyes widened, then he laughed. “No, no, Sirius isn’t a traitor. He doesn’t even have an Eidolic weapon to my knowledge.” He reached over and ruffled her hair. “Leave any talk of traitors to us grown ups, all right, little owl?”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tuesday, August 1st, 1995</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After her trans-continental portkey found her feeling as if she’d  washed ashore onto America’s native land instead of portkey’d there, she took a stop in a seedy muggle motel room where she collapsed into a deep sleep for two days. She woke up refreshed and sheepish, hoping she hadn’t kept anyone waiting. She Apparated to the meet up point with no problems. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a bit strange, to be honest, and it made Hermione’s hackles go up as she looked around. A forest of white trunked aspen trees surrounded the park, their yellow leaves swaying in the slight breeze. There was a clearing in the middle, a babbling brook cutting through the center of it with a wooden bridge arching above it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surely Sirius wasn’t part of the Coterie. Right? She knew that ever since they’d broken off from the Ordinance during the war here in Britain that their strength had waxed and waned, backed by the Dark Lord as they were. So surely, as weak as they were now, no one would think to follow them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lovely day out, isn’t it, Miss Black?” A genial old voice called. Hermione whipped around towards the source of the noise, her heart pounding like a rabbit in her chest as she remembered all of the other times she’d been surprised unwittingly by strange voices that only </span>
  <em>
    <span>sounded</span>
  </em>
  <span> human. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man before her had blue eyes that twinkled behind half-moon glasses, with a friendly smile and a long snowy white beard that went down to his stomach. He wore an orange shirt and eggplant purple pants, with a yellow polka dotted tie and a magenta overshirt with odd, green flamingos on it. He appeared human enough. He had no Luminosity, and she could sense no spiritual power that would mark him as a certain classification.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would be prudent to be cautious, however… Hermione hesitated. “I suppose so,” She said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The old man nodded. “I apologize for the abrupt nature of our meeting, but we really don’t have much time. The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix resides at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione blinked and suddenly the memory of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place came back to her, as if it had always been. It was strange. She knew Sirius had to be living somewhere, and yet the thought of where had never quite occurred to her, even though it should have been obvious, especially to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bloody hell, she loathed the Fidelius. It was nothing better than a mass brainwashing spell. One that apparently had its uses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the Order of the Phoenix?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An Order much like your Ordinance,” The man said, and Hermione took a step back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you?” She asked slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The old man looked concerned. “My name is Albus Dumbledore. Don’t be alarmed, Miss Black, I’m only trying to help you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. She realized her wand was out, and slipped it sheepishly back up its holster. Hermione had heard the name Albus Dumbledore many times in America; he was a very influential man. Which meant… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, sir,” She said, bowing her head deferentially. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s quite alright, Miss Black.” Dumbledore said. “Shall we?” He offered her his arm, and Hermione took it gratefully, desperate to get out of this awkward situation she’d landed herself in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a loud </span>
  <em>
    <span>crack</span>
  </em>
  <span> of Apparition, they were gone.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey, ya'll!</p><p>Just a disclaimer that while I have done my research, there's only so much research one can do about situations like abuse without actually living through it. So, yeah, semi-realistic emotional abuse.</p><p>Also, this is where it starts getting into Harry's POV, and it starts non linearly for a few important reasons which you will find out soon. &gt;;) So pay attention to those time stamps: They're there for a reason, even if JKR couldn't be bothered to look at an actual calendar. Thank god for HP lexicon.</p><p>Let's see, content warnings... there's reference's to PTSD, which I'll be calling Warrior's Heart for the purposes of this fic, (bc wizards) and general lack of self-care. There's a bit of... what could be called a magical illness, which sort of involves emetiphobia? But I have emetiphobia, and it didn't bother me to write it or read it later on, if that helps. Also bullying. And of course emotional abuse, bc Dursleys. No physical abuse, though.</p><p>I think that's it for content warnings! Read on! ^-^</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Chapter Two • Transformation</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tuesday, August 1st, 1995</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione stepped into Grimmauld Place and found it quite to her taste. The Entrance Hall was painted a pleasant aegean blue, the expertly carved wainscoting a shocking white that went halfway up the wall. A glass chandelier hung overhead, and wall sconces gave off their own magical light. Stags and wolves pranced and played in perfect harmony across the walls, no two depictions the same. They were painted in brilliant spruce and stone colors that caught the eye. Hermione found herself brushing a finger against the stag’s cheek. They were so lifelike, almost as if they might leap out of the painting at any moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione heard footsteps approaching from up the hallway, so she wasn’t surprised when a male voice said, “It’s nice, isn’t it?” Hermione turned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man in front of her was like looking into a distorted mirror of herself. His dark hair was long and loose, and hung down to his shoulders in a matted tangle that looked to have been attempted to be brushed before abruptly giving up.  His face was unshaved in that way that meant he had tried his best only to find that holding a razor was no longer a feasible option. His jaw was squarer than Reg’s, his cheekbones sharper and more defined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In contrast, Hermione’s golden brown hair was in its perpetual curls and she had given up brushing it fifteen minutes in and put it in a loose tail at the nape of her neck, and she knew she had deep bags under her eyes from lack of sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes were flint grey, and hers were chocolate brown, but at the same time they were exactly the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had a Warrior’s eyes, just like her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione adjusted her bag over her shoulder, feeling suddenly nervous. He looked so much like Reg… Pushing that emotion down and away, she smiled at him. “Yes, it looks quite nice.” She hesitated. “Hermione Black.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sirius.” He said with a nod. “But you probably already knew that given the newspapers and all that rot.” Sirius paused. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> know that I’m innocent, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione nodded. “Reg told me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius nodded, looking glum at the news. “Well, come on in, then. I think Molly is just getting started on lunch.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a pleasant lunch where she met a veritable horde of redheads, Hermione was led on a tour of the house by Sirius and a mischievous house elf named Zaimaya. “The previous house elf, Kreacher, is around here somewhere,” Sirius explained, “but he refused to clean anything, so Dumbledore asked Zaimaya to come from Hogwarts to help things along.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius was leading her to her room on the first floor when things began to go sideways. Cloth that was too big for her frame draped over her body, the rough fabric brushing harshly against her fevered skin. “Sirius,” She thought she said, or maybe, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Blimey, I feel awful. I hope school starts soon.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The sensations of her own body fell away as they felt the sweat beading against their skin, the way they were curled up in bed, sheets rucked up around them. Their throat ached and they coughed, something black as starlight spewing from their lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m dying, I must be.</span>
  </em>
  <span> They thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They coughed again and felt as something shot out of their mouth, bouncing off of the bed to roll onto the floor. As if in a dream, they stood up to reach it. It was a perfectly round sphere, and it fit right in the center of their palm. It was a pure, incandescent white that pulsed with power in their hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A starball</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Hermione thought, herself all at once.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What?</span>
  </em>
  <span> The spirit asked. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Who are-?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione wrenched herself out of the vision, coughing and gasping. She realized she was lying on her back on a large, soft bed and quickly rolled out of it, landing unsteadily on her feet. A hand landed on her shoulder, and she nearly summoned Serpentis just on instinct before she followed the hand to its owner. “Are you alright, Hermione? Here, sit down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius led her to a sitting area in the corner of the room near the door, it’s furniture a deep black with olive green cushions. It was only then that Hermione took in the whole room in its glory. The room was painted a pine green, with graphite accents. On the walls were delicately scaled snakes that slithered into cloud colored holes or nestled into light green nooks. The bedding was a seafoam green and the ceiling was of the starry night sky that Reg had been named for. The floor was hardwood, with a flint grey carpet over the top. Another bed sat beside her own, this one done in Gryffindor red and gold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you not like it? Molly did say it was a bit much…” Sirius trailed off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione smiled at him. Her heart was warmed, but all the same, it ached. “I love it. Thank you, Sirius.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, well. You’re welcome. Zaimaya did most of the work,” Sirius said, rubbing at the back of his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mister Sirius worked very hard,” Zaimaya contradicted with a smile. Her large, soulful blue eyes made it hard to doubt her.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sunday, July 23rd, 1995</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry sprinted down the rough, winding street, Dudley and his gang hot on his heels. He tripped over his shoelaces and fell painfully onto his hands and knees, his eyes falling on an alleyway directly across from his field of view. Scuttling quickly across with no care for his scraped up palms, he squirmed in between a trash can and a dumpster, desperately wishing he was smaller. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry suddenly felt as if he were being compressed and contained, shifted down into a smaller, more comfortable form. Harry panted, claws digging into the pavement below him. He flinched as he heard Dudley’s laugh, long ears pinning to his skull. But Dudley ran right past him, as if he didn’t even see him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because he hadn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because Harry didn’t even recognize himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin, now what?</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where have you been, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>freak</span>
  </em>
  <span>?! Dudley was home hours ago!” Uncle Vernon yelled upon Harry’s entry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Uncle Vernon,” Harry told him, downhearted. If only he’d figured out how to change back sooner, his Uncle wouldn’t be mad at him. “I’ll get started on dinner if you want,” Harry told him. Dinner always put the Dursleys in a better mood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go get washed up, first! But hurry it up, </span>
  <em>
    <span>or else</span>
  </em>
  <span>, freak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After his quick shower and the resultant meal that followed, Harry went up to his room; he was feeling poorly. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harry developed a cough over the next several days, and found himself confined to his room by the Dursleys so that the sickness wouldn’t spread. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Awfully nice of them</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he snarked, then felt guilty. He curled up on his bed, the sheets rucked up around him. Inky darkness bright with stars spewed from his lips as he coughed, staining the bedsheets with liquid starlight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he emerged from his sickbed, it was with the echo of a half remembered voice in his ears and the knowledge that he would have to keep this a secret. Even from Ron.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry, mate. </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>About Harry's abuse: I don't think it's really necessary to make the Dursley's abuse physical. Emotional abuse might not be physically harmful, but that doesn't mean it doesn't cause harm, no matter what CPS thinks. </p><p>And for any writers out there, it might seem like a more drastic plot device, but in my opinion, a sharp enough word can deal just as much damage as anything else.</p><p>The Dursleys and transphobia: yeah, they're transphobic. I thought this was ic for them considering their "hate everything that's different" thing. But I didn't want to possibly trigger anyone by one of the Dursley's misgendering Harry, so they call him "freak" instead of "boy". Good? Good. </p><p>Tell me if there's anything too confusing! I'll be happy to clear it up if it isn't a spoiler! ^-^</p><p>See y'all next chap! ^^</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>EDIT: Changed Inkheart's name to Serpentis, after some thought about what Hermione would name it with the people she loved in mind rather than something she enjoys. So, heart, not brain, which hermione has trouble with sometimes, but considering i don't know many books from that timeperiod other than Robin Hobb or George RR Martin, I thought heart was needed in this.</p><p>Fun fact: I thought about hermione naming it Blackstar (warrior cats represent!) but that... also doesn't fit the time period and i realised that she wouldn't name it that if she didn't know it was the Black Family weapon. So, that got scrapped.</p><p>Also, these dates are completely accurate according to timeanddate.com. JKR is notorious for not doing her research, <i>(child abuse</i> *cough cough* <i>child abuse)</i> so don't blame me if the canon dates are wrong. I do have them on HP lexicon, so yes, I do know for a fact, that the dates she put do not add up to the 1995 calendar. </p><p>So, if you happen to remember any important dates, don't get distracted by the day of the week, watch the day of the month, if you know what I mean. &gt;;)</p><p>For anyone who needs clarification, "Day of the Week" is like a Friday or a Saturday, while the "day of the month" is like the 1st of August or... the 2nd. ;)</p><p>Alright, see y'all next chap! ^-^</p></blockquote></div></div>
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